


kiss me again (this time it's just for us)

by srmiller



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 'pretend to be my girlfriend so i don't have to kiss someone else', Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellarke, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, New Year fic, accidental smut, college aged, i don't know the rated r tags well enough to what is what, minty and linctavia make brief appearances too, this might need to be explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-16 00:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13042830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srmiller/pseuds/srmiller
Summary: Bellamy works at a bar and when New Year's Eve comes around he's decided the only way to avoid the women asking him if they can kiss him at midnight is to have a girlfriend. He'd learned last year just saying he had a girlfriend didn't work, so he's going to ask Clarke to sit at the bar so anytime a drunk woman asks where his girlfriend is, he can point to Clarke and that will be the end of that.What he doesn't plan on is Clarke looking hot enough to burn his brain cells, or for the kiss at midnight to be anything but simple, and when Clarke shows up at the end of his shift tell him to kiss her again...well. He's not going to tell her no, is he?





	kiss me again (this time it's just for us)

Clarke was going to burn the canvas in front of her. She’d find some gasoline, get a match, and start from scratch.

It would probably make her late turning in the assignment but at this point, if she turned this particular painting in, it’s like she’d get much higher than anyway so she might as well turn in something she actually liked.

“What’s with the face?”

Clarke looked up from her painting, surprised to see Bellamy in the art building after hours without a key, but not at all curious to how he managed it. Bellamy could be a charmer when he put his mind to it. There were few doors which were permanently closed to him.

“I hate it,” she said by way of explanation, waving her hand towards the easel in front of her. “So I’m going to burn it.”

“Cool,” he grabbed a stool and dragged it closer to her to. “I’ll help, then you can direct me towards the nearest cliff I can just jump off of.”

“There aren’t any cliffs nearby Bellamy, we live in a city. Very few cliffs, but lots of high rises.”

“That’s true.”

She could practically feel his glare burning a hole through her temple and if she said she didn’t get a little bit of pleasure out of it she’d be lying. “You’re remarkably unconcerned about someone contemplating jumping off buildings.”

“You’d never jump off a building,” she told him matter-of-factly and finally accepted the burning of the canvas and got up to clean her paintbrushes. “Who would worry about everyone if you died?”

“I don’t want to die,” he corrected, as if she should know that. “I want to be hurt just enough so I don’t have to work New Year’s Eve.”

Clarke now understood the need for cliffs and high rises. “Next to Valentine’s Day it’s one of the worst holidays, but you’re a professional, you’ll find a way to pull through.”

“Do you know why I hate it?”

“Because it’s an arbitrary date based on the turning of a calendar page,” Clarke recited from having heard the same argument for the past three years. “Every day is the start of a new year.”

“I don’t feel the kind of compassion coming from you I should be getting from a friend.”

Clarke shrugged as she put away her supplies. “Get a new friend.”

“I’ll make it one of resolutions,” he told her dryly.

She laughed and pulled off her apron, looking down at her clothes to make sure she hadn’t gotten any paint on them. “I understand, it’s been good knowing you.”

“You could make up for your lack of compassion by helping me out.”

Turning to look at him she put her hands on her hips, vaguely disappointed in him. “That was a really long way to go about asking for a favor.”

“Come to the bar and hang out on New Year’s.”

“Bellamy.” She was on the same side of the New Year’s Eve argument as Bellamy. While she didn’t hate the turning of calendar pages as much as he did, she didn’t exactly get the holiday either. It usually meant there were too many people at the bar and most of them too drunk.

Not exactly a recipe for fun in Clarke’s mind.

Bellamy grabbed Clarke’s bag from the floor as she put on her jacket. He slung it over her shoulder and she knew better than to remind him she could carry it, he picked weird things to be adamantly chivalrous about. “You’d be saving me from an unnecessary amount of flirting.”

Clarke snorted. He was a hot guy working at a bar on New Year’s Eve, “Doubtful.”

“You’ll save me from a stranger asking if they can kiss me at midnight.”

Clarke pulled her hair out from under her coat as they headed towards the door. “Does that actually happen?”

“It did last year. Usually it starts with ‘do you have a girlfriend.’ I lie and say yes, but then they look around ‘but she’s not here, is she?’”

Ah, the truth has been revealed. “You want me to be your girlfriend.”

Bellamy shook his head, pushing the main door so the cold rushed into the building. “I want to be able to point at you and say ‘that’s my girlfriend and that’s why I can’t kiss you at midnight.’”

Clarke considered his plan and wondered if he’d thought it through to its conclusion. “You’d have to kiss me at midnight, you realize that, right?”

He shrugged, looking straight ahead. “I think we’d both survive one kiss. Bring the gang if you think you’ll be bored.”

In an instant Clarke catalogued every single one of their friends’ reactions to her and Bellamy kissing and thought about finding a cliff for herself. “I’m not kissing you in front of everyone.”

“Strangers only, cool. So you’ll come?”

She wanted to hit him for how casually he sounded, but Clarke thought about her other options.

If she tried to stay in, all of her friends would spend days trying to convince her to go out, not to stay home in her pajamas. Going out likely meant going to the party Octavia would throw while Bellamy was working, and that didn’t sound particularly appealing either.

She wasn’t in the mood to get hit on or get drunk. “It’s better than going to the party Octavia invited me to. I’m not dressing up.”

He nodded and she thought she heard him sigh. “Me neither.”

 

Bellamy was putting drinks on a tray for one of the servers when the flash of silver and blonde caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.

Clarke was turned up to an eleven in a short, glittery dress. Her heels were high, her lips red, and she’d done something with her eyes so the blue stood out against the khol. Her grin was wide and bright as she approached the bar.

“I thought you said you weren’t dressing up?” he asked her, probably sharper than was necessary, but it was a defensive reaction to being knocked over by how gorgeous he was.

She seemed unaffected by his tone as she  rested her hand on the black shine of the bar, her red clutch practically matching her lips. “It turns out your sister is very hard to say no to.”

His sister, yep, better to think about his sister than about how hot Clarke looked. “Shocker.”

“I told her I couldn’t go to her party because I had someplace to be. Once she knew I was going out, it was hard to convince her I couldn’t also go by the party so I promised to drop by. I hung out for an hour, and then escaped.”

Bellamy stepped away and refilled a couples’ drinks before coming back to her with a drink to match her lips. “Did you tell her where you were going?”

“You mean did I go up to your sister and say ‘hey, I’m going to your brother’s bar so he can kiss me at midnight’? No.” She looked around, blonde hair falling around bare shoulders. “Is there an out of the way place I can hang out that’s close enough for you to point to?”

“I put a crate on this stool over here to save it for you.”

“My hero.”

He walked over to the end up of the bar and picked up the crate of glasses from the stool and put them in the back. When he came back Clarke was sitting on the stool, legs crossed so the dress slid just a little higher up her thigh.

By the gods, he needed a drink.

“How are you going to entertain yourself?”

“I’m hoping you’ll steal some printer paper for me and I’ll doodle.”

He looked around the bar, made a quick calculation how long it would take to check in with the customers and get new drinks. “Give me five minutes and I’ll get you paper. Do you need something to draw with?”

“I brought my own pen,” she said by way of answer and pulled it out of her clutch.

“Of course you did.”

“What is this, by the way?” she asked as she took a sip of the drink he’d set in front of her. “It’s good.”

“I’m calling it Impressions.”

“Impressions?” she repeated.

Bellamy was never charming when it came to Clarke, there was something about her which kept him just off balance enough everything he said came off vaguely dickish. Sometimes though, the stars aligned and he could trip into charming. “Yeah, like the impression a girl leaves with her lipstick on the rim of a glass.”

Clarke looked down at her glass, a surprised and pleased smile on her face before she looked back at him. “Fuck, Bellamy. Was that a line?”

“I’m going to have to remember it for later.”

“Why for later? I’m pretty sure it just worked on me.”

Bellamy laughed, his heart skittering in his ribs. “I’ll bring you paper, wave if you need another drink.”

He headed towards the register where he bumped into Murphy. “Your girlfriend?”

“For tonight.”

“Hot.”

Bellamy glared at his co-worker. “Hands off.”

Murphy scoffed. “Emori would cut my hands off if I thought about it.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s going to swing by closer to midnight. She’s not a huge fan of crowds like this. If you want to take a break at any point and get to second in the office let me know.”

Bellamy briefly wondered at the quickness of the offer, and thought there was a better than good chance Murphy had done just that himself in the past. “Wow. Murphy. That was almost human.”

“What can I say, Emori has that effect on me.”

“Remind me to buy her a drink when she gets here.”

Murphy grunted and walked away and Bellamy, with a heavy breath, went to work.

 

Clarke had always been aware Bellamy was hot. Not in an objective way, but in a ‘sometimes he walks in and suddenly I’m very turned on’ kind of way. Most of the time it was an irritation, like an allergy, but sometimes she got to enjoy it.

Like when she was pretending to be his girlfriend for the night and it would be weird if she wasn’t ogling him. And damn if he didn’t wear the bartender uniform well. His black button up shirt was rolled up to the elbows and his silver tie was loosened just a little.

Octavia had once described them matter-of-factly as kissing handles when she’d been complaining about how Lincoln never wore a tie. ‘You just wrap it around your hand around it, and tug.’

Clarke let herself weave a little fantasy while Bellamy laughed and helped the people lined up two deep at the bar. She pictured them in the empty bar, lights dim for atmosphere. He’d be standing in front of her, maybe arms on either side of her so she was between him and the bar.

They’d be talking like they always did, only this time when he smiled she’d grab his tie, wrap it around her hand, and pull him close enough to kiss. It was hard to imagine what kissing him would be like because she’d never done it, but give it a few hours and she’d know well enough.

Not that she expected some big makeout session at midnight, but at least she’d have a foundation work off of.

But no matter, back to the fantasy, because while she didn’t know what he kissed like she did know what he felt like. She’d had her hands on his shoulders, his arms, had hugged him, so she knew what it was like to have her body pressed against his.

She thought about him pressing her against the bar, about those hidden muscles under her hands as his fingers trailed up the bare skin on her thigh. Under no circumstances would she have sex with him in a bar, but foreplay existed for a reason didn’t it?

And it had been a long time since she’d had a good, sexy makeout session.

“Clarke?”

She jumped when Bellamy was suddenly beside her, touching her arm to get her attention. “Hi. Yeah. Hello.”

The look he gave was clearly confused by her weirdness but Clarke was going to pretend like she wasn’t turned on and hadn’t just been think of Bellamy whispering dirty deeds in her ear. “Did you need something?”

He shook his head and Clarke realized, belatedly, he was on her side of the bar. “I was going to take a break, step outside for some fresh air.”

“Yeah? I’ll come with.” She moved to slide off the stool but could almost feel a dozen eyes on her, as if they were just waiting for her to vacate the spot before they pounced. “What are the chances my seat will be safe from invaders?”

He moved into her space and she was far too turned off him and her own thoughts to be this close to him. She was going to jump him or make a fool of herself.

Possibly both.

He grabbed the stool and moved around to the back of the bar, waving at Murphy. “This is Clarke’s.”

Murphy nodded so Bellamy grabbed Clarke’s hand. “We’ll sneak out the back.”

She more than happily let him lead her through a pantry and out a side door. She should have thought to have Bellamy grab his coat since hers was still in coat check, the cold was sharp enough to bite.

She ran her hands up her arms and tried not to think about what the temperature was. “Sorry, I know it’s cold but after being in the bar it feels good.”

Clarke breathed in the icy, cold air and had to admit it felt clean and refreshing after the over warm interior of the bar, “I’ll be fine.”

They were alone, the horny version and buzzed version of Clarke reminded sober-Clarke. The scenario from the bar would still work. He could back her against the wall, kiss her deep and dirty without the risk of anyone walking in on them. His leg between hers so she could get some friction, moving against him while his hands-

“It’s only what, one hour left to go?” Clarke heard herself say, practically interrupting herself before she fell too far down the rabbit hole of internal porn.

“Till the new year?” Bellamy clarified, thankfully unaware of the images Clarke had been creating in her mind. “Yeah, then another three for me at best until I can clock off.”

He sounded so despondent about having to work Clarke opened her mouth before she realized what she was going to say. Maybe she should ease back on the alcohol. “Want me to stick around till then?”

He looked surprised at the offer. “I would never ask you to do that.”

“Which is why I’m offering.”

“Clarke, you’ve got to have better stuff to do then hang out here.”

She shivered hard and wished it were for better reasons than the freezing winter and tiny dress. “Not really, I’d just be home in my pjs watching something on Netflix.”

He studied her for a minute, but Clarke wasn’t sure what he was looking for so she just looked at him. “If you want to hang out, I’m not going to stop you.”

“I’ll text the others to come over and entertain me,” she shivered again, wrapping her arms around herself and hunching forward. “I doubt they’re going to stop partying just because the ball dropped.”

Seeming to understand she was actually cold he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Grateful for the proximity as much as the heat she shifted closer to him, her arms trapped between them, and while this wasn’t exactly her fantasy from earlier, it was pretty good. “I thought you didn’t want them hanging around.”

“Not at midnight, but I’ll text them a few minutes before and tell them to head over after the countdown. Making sure they don’t get alcohol poisoning will give me something to do.” She pulled back just enough to look up at him, “You’re really fucking hot, you know that?”

Bellamy looked absolutely shell shocked for a full three seconds. “Excuse me?”

“Just something I thought you should be aware of.”

“Uh. Okay. Are we talking temperature, or…?”

She snuggled closer. “Both.”

“Are you drunk?”

She tilted her head and thought about it seriously before shaking her head. “No. Maybe a little buzzed but nothing to write home about. Why?”

“Because if you were any other woman I’d think you were hitting on me.”

Clarke immediately pivoted to avoid the fact she might have been hitting on him. “You’re the one who took me outside in the cold so you could make a move.”

He looked genuinely surprised at her accusation but he couldn’t deny the fact his arms were now wrapped around her and they were about as close as two people could get and still be wearing clothes. “Huh.”

“We’ll blame it on the holiday.”

The moment wasn’t exactly ruined by his frustrated groan, instead it felt more intimate, more _theirs_. “It’s not a holiday, Clarke.”

“Fine, we’ll blame it on Sunday.”

He grinned and push back wayward strands of blonde hair. “Damn Sunday.”

“You should probably get back inside.”

“It hasn’t been ten minutes yet.”

Clarke laughed. “You didn’t even look at your phone or your watch.”

“I know things Clarke, I’ve got at least two more minutes.”

“Cool,” she rested her head on his chest and enjoyed his warmth for another 180 seconds.

  


Bellamy went through motions of his job without a thought. He’d been a bartender long enough serving drinks, giving smiles, and chatting with customers was second nature. He spent 1% of his brain on the drunk and cheerful, and the other 99% on what the hell had happened with Clarke in the alley.

He hadn’t thought about making a move on her, she’d been the one to suggest she come along for his break, but Bellamy couldn’t deny there was a certain something else about them tonight. Under pain of death he wouldn’t admit it, but there was almost the feeling of change in the air along with the new year.

“Do you have someone to kiss at my midnight?”

The woman who asked was beautiful, her girlfriends grinning behind glasses as she leaned forward on the bar. “My girlfriend,” Bellamy answered, the lie coming easier each time he said it.

She made a show of looking around the room. “Is she here?”

“The pretty blonde in the silver dress,” Bellamy answered with a nod towards Clarke who was now talking with someone she seemed to know.

Pouting into her drink the woman turned away with her friends to look for other guys more willing and less attached then him.

“Find your girl,” Murphy muttered as he passed by Bellamy, glancing up at the tv above the bar and Bellamy saw there were 30 seconds left of the calendar year. Moving towards Clarke he walked around the bar so he could be standing next to her.

“I can’t,” he heard her saying. “My boyfriend-” she stopped when he touched her shoulder, her grin bright when she looked up at him from her seat. “Is here,” she finished, turning her smile back on the woman. “It was nice seeing you though.”

In the middle of the bar Murphy was leading the countdown, Emori shaking her head at his antics but Bellamy’s focus was on Clarke.

“The favor was for you to pretend to be my girlfriend. I don’t remember agreeing to pretend to be your boyfriend.”

“Quid pro qo, my friend,” she replied, her voice almost a murmur as her eyes darted down to his lips. Without thinking about it he framed her face with his hands as the crowd shouted down the seconds.

Twleve, eleven.

Bellamy didn’t quite understand the pressure in his chest, but the anticipation he understood easily enough. It built between them with each second that passed until Clarke was reaching up to wrap her fingers around his wrist. When she said his name, her voice was almost pleading as he heard ‘two’ shouted in the bar.

He was kissing her before the ‘one’ was finished and she was kissing him back.

Nothing wild, nothing like he’d do if he had her behind closed doors, but like the first shot of alcohol, it was a shock to the system just the same. It warmed his whole body and when one had seemed like a big deal he suddenly couldn’t help but already want more.

“Happy new year, princess.”

“Happy tuning of the calendar page, Bellamy.”

He laughed and kissed her again, almost friendly as if his hand wasn’t still cradling her head like he wasn’t quite ready yet to let her go.

 

  
Their group showed up at almost one, which meant they only had an hour before last call but they were determined to make the most of it.

“Who is making sure you all get home okay?” Clarke asked as Octavia got a tray of shots and a handful of mixed drinks they were just going to pass around the table.

“Lincoln,” Octavia answered cheerfully as she handed a shot to her boyfriend. “He's going to make sure everyone gets in the right cabs and gets home safely. You're off the hook for tonight, so you can get drunk.”

“Gee, thanks.” But she looked over at Lincoln as Octavia finished handing out what smelled like tequila. “I can make sure they get home if you want to drink.”

“I'm good,” he assured her. “Enjoy yourself.”

“On three,” Octavia announced to the table.

“Haven't we counted enough tonight,” Monty asked even as he raised his glass.

“Shut up,” she replied. “One, two, three.”

Clarke grimaced before throwing the liquor to the back her throat and immediately reached for the closest drink to erase the burning of the tequila.

“What were you doing here?” Raven asked as she turned her glass upside down on the tray. “I thought you said you had some place to be.”

If things were different, Clarke would have lied but after the hug in the alley, and the kiss at midnight she'd made a decision. “I did. Here.”

“You had to be here?” Octavia repeated, her eyes narrowing at Clarke with suspicion. “Why?”

“Bellamy needed a human shield to keep the horny masses at bay.”

“And you threw yourself on the Bellamy grenade?” Raven asked with a smirk as Monty leaned forward.

“He asked,” Clarke shrugged, gathering her courage she looked each one of her friends in the eye, staying on Lincoln because she thought he was the safest bet. “And when you guys leave at last call I'm going to stay behind.”

There was a chorus of sounds which amounted 'oh yeah' and 'about time.'

“You're going to hit on my brother?” Octavia asked and Lincoln put his hand on her shoulder as if he was worried she might fight Clarke.

“Hitting on him isn’t the right way to put it,” Clarke evaded. “Are you sure you want to be a part of this conversation?”

“Absolutely.”

Clarke couldn’t say she was surprised, as much as people teased Bellamy about being protective over Octavia the truth was both Blakes would fight dragons for the other. “I’m going to ask him to my boyfriend. Fuck, that sounds so high school,” Clarke reached for another shot.

“You want Bellamy to be your New Year’s resolution?” Monty asked as if it was the best thing he'd heard all year.

“Do not ever word it like that to him,” Clarke warned. “He will say no on principal and I want to have sex with him.”

Clarke stared at the empty glasses as Raven laughed and Monty got out his phone, presumably to text Miller who was currently working his shift as a beat cop. She was cutting herself off from shots, and should probably stop drinking for the rest of the night.

“Are you going to ask him about his opinion on this or what?” Octavia asked.

“Or what,” Clarke answered with a definitive nod. “I’m pretty sure he’ll be cool with it.”

Monty raised his glass in a kind of toast while still looking down at his phone. “Good luck to you then.”

“Is there a particular reason why you’re suddenly deciding you want to do this?” Lincoln asked and Clarke knew him well enough to recognize the fond smile on his face. “It’s not like you and Bellamy haven’t liked each other the entire time you’ve known each other.”

“Not really,” she shrugged and decided she was going to keep the New Year’s kiss to herself. It would be theirs, she decided, and thought Bellamy would agree. “It just seems dumb not to be dating the hot guy I’m friends with.”

“You’re friends with more than one hot guy,” Monty reminded her. “And I’m not even talking about myself.”

“You’re a hot guy,” Octavia assured him with a pat on his shoulder. “But seriously, the question is valid. Not that I’m saying you shouldn’t date my brother, but don’t do it just because he’s handy.”

“It's not because he's handy,” Clarke assured the group and took a long drink out of the glass still in her hand. “It's because I'm super into him. He's a good person and I've got butterflies.”

The entire group 'awed' which was both condescending and sweet.

“So, you guys have to leave after last call so I can make my move without an audience.”

“We'll get out of your way,” Lincoln promised, covering Octavia's mouth when she started argue. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.”

 

Bellamy’s manager wanted to get home as much as his bartenders so at 2am she let her bartenders and servers start pushing people out the door. If they were left to their own devices, many of the guests would have been content to curl up in the booths and pass out.

Thankfully there was someone else who would come around to mop the floor and take out the trash so all he had to do was get his receipts in order, tip out to the servers and the cooks, and go home.

Murphy had already dashed, leaving moments after the guest which suggested to Bellamy he’d been doing his paperwork as he’d gone which was hard to believe. There had barely been time to breathe much less order tickets between drinks.

He was sitting one of the barstools when he heard from the other side of the bar, “When do you get to go home?”

Bellamy looked up and was happy to see Clarke walking towards him. “Hey, you're still here.”

“Yeah, I helped Lincoln make sure everyone got in the cabs okay.” She put her clutch on the bar and walked over to him. “Do it again.”

“Do what again?” he asked as he stood up, paperwork on the bar forgotten.

“Kiss me.” She grabbed the silver tie loosened from around his neck. “This time like you mean it.”

His grin was crooked as he looked at her. “I didn’t mean it last time?”

She shook her head as she stepped close enough her body brushed against his. “It was all for show. This one is just for us.”

He was not about to tell her no; if she wanted him to kiss her, he’d happily oblige. But like she said, there was no audience and it was time to kiss her how he’d always imagined kissing her. There was no softness this time, no gentleness, it was a quick and hard whirlwind, the silk of his tie clutched in her hand as she held on to him.

His hands were on her hips then in her hair, pulling her to him as he used teeth and tongue to drive the kiss deeper and deeper but Clarke, his Clarke, wasn't about to let him go affected. She let go of his tie to wrap her arms around his neck, rubbing against him until couldn’t help the quick intake of breath.

“I thought maybe you changed mind,” he told her, his voice quiet and unsteady.

“Changed my mind about what?” she asked, as breathless as he was.

“About making a move,” he explained. “You headed out and I thought maybe you'd decided you didn't want to date me anymore.”

“How did you-” Clarke cut herself off, the answer likely occurring to her before she could finish the question. “Who told you?”

He grinned and sat down on one of the stools, pulling her towards him so she stood between his legs. “Everyone.”

Her voice was fond as she shook her head. “Dirty rats.”

“Monty didn’t want me to get caught off guard,” Bellamy explained, enjoying the feel of Clarke’s hips beneath his hand, loved even more the way her own fingers toyed with his hair the nape of his neck. “Raven didn’t want me to blow it, and I think Octavia just wanted to see what my reaction would be.”

Clarke played with his tie as she looked at him. “And what was your reaction?”

“With Monty, confused appreciation; with Raven cautious fear; with Octavia, a roll of my eyes. Lincoln came up too but he didn’t say anything until I asked him about it and he just told me I’d understand when it happened. He was right.”

“We have such supportive friends.”

“We do.” He tugged her a little closer and barely resisted the urge to kiss her again because apparently that was a thing he could do. “Miller sent me a text earlier-”

“I saw Monty texting him during my confession after the first round of shots.”

“-And he graciously told me he was going to go over to Monty's tonight after his shift. So if you’re not drunk-”

“I’m not,” she interrupted. “I stopped drinking more than an ago. At this point I’m barely buzzed.”

“As soon as the janitor shows up, I’m done. Want to come home with me?”

Clarke leaned forward to kiss him and he enjoyed how it wasn’t familiar yet, but one day would be. “I thought you’d never ask.”

 

Bellamy walked into his apartment with only two thoughts; Clarke and sleep.

He'd just worked an almost ten-hour shift on one of the most grueling nights of the year and while he absolutely wanted to pass out in his bed, Clarke's hand was in his and he wasn't about to waste the moment.

“We don't have to do anything tonight,” Clarke was saying as he locked the door and kicked his shoes off.

“Excuse me?”

She smiled softly as she leaned against the arm of couch, the sexiest thing he'd ever seen in his life with her hair falling around her and the heels she wore making her legs look a mile long.

“You're tired, Bellamy.”

“Yeah, and what does that have to do with anything?”

“We've waited this long to have sex, we can wait till you've had some sleep.”

He pulled at the knot of his tie, and watched her eyes flick towards it. He wasn't aware of what it was about her and the damn thing, but if it caused this kind of a reaction in her every time, he'd never go without.

“Look, eventually I am going to pass out and sleep for a solid ten hours but if think for one minute I wouldn't give up an hour of that sleep for sex with you, you're an idiot.”

Clarke rolled her eyes but her smile was still there. “You're such a romantic, Bellamy.”

She wanted romance, huh? Bellamy walked towards her, feeling positively predatory. “You're so damn beautiful, princess. And there is no way I'd be able to sleep without finding out what you have underneath that slinky dress.”

Bellamy reached out to play with the strap of the dress, sliding it off her shoulder.

He thought he heard her breath catch.

“Did you wear this dress to drive me crazy, or was that just a fringe benefit?”

“Sixty-forty driving you crazy.”

He stepped between her legs, one hand touching the skin just below the hem of her dress. “It worked. The heels, the dress, the lipstick.”

She licked her lips and he'd never been so entranced by a sight in his life. “It's worn off by now.”

“I regret nothing,” he assured her, knowing he had been the one to rub most of it off. His thumb brushed across her bottom lip which was bare of artificial color. “Come to bed with me, Clarke. I want to learn how you taste.”

“Fuck, Bellamy,” was all she said before she kissed him. He'd learn the way she kissed too, the soft and gentle kisses, the familiar ones, but for now he was happy to enjoy the greedy, hard kisses. He liked to think she wanted him too much to be anything but everything, because it was the way he wanted her.

He pushed the straps further down her shoulders and she got the hint and moved her arms so the silver sheath slipped down her waist to reveal the strapless black bra beneath.

“They don't make sexy bras in my size,” she explained almost as an apology.

“And somehow it still works for me,” he assured her as his hands swept up the silk covered curves. “Stand up.”

She did as he asked, the dress falling to the ground to leave her in just her underwear and matching black heels.

He wasn't entirely certain he was capable of words but he tried to speak. “You're going to kill me, princess.”

“You should at least die happy,” she told him and he'd be worried by how calm she sounded except her hands were shaky when she reached to undo the knot of his tie. She wasn’t unaffected.

The tie fell to the floor next to the dress, a pile of silver.

Bellamy kissed her neck as she undid the buttons of his shirt, his fingers running up her spine to toy with the clasp of her bra.

“Take it off,” she all but begged as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders. It would probably be sexier all around if he hadn't been wearing the undershirt but he quickly divested himself of both the button up and tank.

“I wasn't talking about your shirts,” Clarke told him as she reached her back to unclasp her bra. “But I do appreciate the access to your abs.”

Bellamy laughed but the sound stuttered to a halt when the bra released and she threw it behind her on the couch revealing breasts he had, probably inappropriately, been dreaming about for years. “Definitely going to die happy.”

“I need to take of my shoes.”

Because his brain was too occupied with breasts, Bellamy knelt down without really thinking to slide the shoes off her feet, adding them to the pile of clothes. “Are they sensitive?”

“My boobs?” Clarke asked as he looked up at him from between her legs.

She must have realized the implication of his position because her eyes went wide and he could see her knuckles go white with how hard she was clutching the arm of the couch. Unintentionally or not, her legs spread open wider.

He pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh and she gasped.

“Yes, your boobs.” Another kiss, this one higher up her leg.

“Why, because you want to play with them?”

This time when he looked up at her it was an unamused look. “I'm not even going to dignify that question.”

Her laugh was a little breathless and from where he was he could smell the want and see the dampness between her legs. “They're not that sensitive but feel to play.”

“Same.” He kissed her leg again, his hand trailing up the inside of her leg so he could put his fingers against the wet spot. “Anything isn't fun or cool, tell me.”

“Same,” she repeated, her hand grabbing his wrist. “But if you're going to continue that, I need to be on your bed and not precariously perched on your couch.”

Bellamy kissed her instead of answering, touching every bit of skin he could reach. Her own hands ran up and down his back, her short nails scraping against his spine so his own control was precarious. “Bed,” he decided, reaching for one of her hands and leading her toward his bedroom.

“I hope you have condoms.”

“Uh, yeah.” Clarke walked to the bed while Bellamy turned to his dresser to get a condom.

When he turned back around Clarke was lying on his bed completely naked.

“Are you just going to stare?” She asked, propped up by her elbows in a pose which was now the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.

“For like another five seconds. When I'm ninety years old and on my death bed I want to be able to be able to recall this so I remember what heaven's going to look like.”

Clarke's eyes went wide for a moment. “Fuck, Bellamy. Do you come up with this shit beforehand?”

“No,” he promised as he walked towards her, undoing his buckle so his pants hit the ground with a soft thud. “You just inspire me.”

“I think my heart actually skipped a beat,” she told him as she reached for him. “Touch me, Bellamy. I need you.”

He slid into her arms, her legs bracketing his so she could find friction against his thigh. Bellamy pressed against her, enjoying the way her fingers dug into his shoulders in reaction. Enjoying himself, he kissed her as his fingers explored her skin. Ribs and legs and breasts until his hand drifted lower, between her legs.

Clarke bit her lip, grabbing the sheets when he found the wet and the heat. “Bellamy.”

“Good?” He asked because he didn't know sex-Clarke well enough to differentiate hesitation from breathlessness.

“Shit, yes. More.”

“Like this,” he asked as he slid one finger inside her.

“Yes,” she breathed, one hand and absently running down his arm.

“I'm going to play with you boobs now.”

Her hips pistoned against his hand. “Yeah, cool, whatever. Just don't stop.”

It took all of his concentration to fuck her with his fingers while playing out his fantasies but the sounds Clarke made as he added another finger while simultaneously nipping at her breast made it worth it.

Clarke saying, “Fuck, Bellamy,” was his first indication she was close to climax. The second was the sudden tightness around his fingers and the third was the way her thighs had gripped his leg moments before she came.

She went loose and languid beneath him and he couldn't help but smile down at her, still turned on to the nth degree but also incredibly fond of her.

“You good?”

Clarke nodded, her hands reaching for his boxers which for some reason he still wore. “I'm excellent. Let's get you on my level.”

Bellamy got off the bed to get rid of his boxers and watched with rapt attention as Clarke grabbed the condom off the bed and opened it. “Do you want me to use me hands or my mouth?”

“Absolutely, but in the future. Right now I don't trust myself not to blow right away and I want to fuck you.”

She nodded and rolled the condom along his length. “Next time,” and she said it like a promise.

“Next time,” he agreed. They fell back onto the bed and sliding into her was the easiest thing he'd ever done. Their kissing was sloppy and secondary to the rhythm they found together. She wrapped her legs around him as he pushed deeper and harder, the beginnings of an orgasm a pressure in the back of his head.

“What do you need?” he asked because he wanted her to enjoy tonight as much as he did, wanted to throw her over the edge at least once before he dived head first himself.

She grabbed his hand, he liked to think she was too far gone for words, and placed one finger against her clit as he sped up the rhythm, touching her until she was just repeating his name over and over.

He was now the one without words.

Clarke tightened beneath, a soft cry as she climaxed and unable to hold back any longer, Bellamy followed her past the point of no return.

 

Clarke woke up in Bellamy’s bed.

He’d given her a sweatshirt to sleep in and found her clothes neatly folded on top of the dresser and there was a wave of affection so strong it could almost be called love.

When she came into the living she saw Bellamy in the kitchen.

“Making breakfast?”

He looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes obviously looking over her entire body. “I didn’t know greasy you were going to need.”

“You made all of us drink as much water as we did alcohol so hangover wise I’m good, but greasy breakfast still sounds perfect.” As she walked towards him she should thought about she should have grabbed socks before walking on the cold floor, but she’d get them later. “So we didn’t really talk about it last night, which was cool but it would have completely changed the mood, but I just wanted to let you know I’m in this.”

Bellamy stopped whatever he was doing with the bacon in the pan and turned to her. “In this?”

“I want to do the boyfriend/girlfriend thing with you, Bellamy. There’s a pretty good chance I’ll screw up before lunch, but if you’re willing to risk it, I’m more than half way in love with you already.”

He kissed like it was an answer, but he knew her, knew her better than anyone, and of course he knew she’d want the words too. “I’m than half in love with you, too. I’m in this.”

“Awesome. I want bacon extra crispy.”

“You mean burnt,” he corrected with a shake of his head. “Get the cheese out of the fridge will you, and your phone is on the counter charging if you want to response to what I’m sure are half a million texts.”

“You too, huh?”

“Yeah. I’ll text back later.”

Clarke kissed him again, because she could. “Me too.”

 

_Two Years Later_

Convincing Bellamy to host a party had been a lot cause, so instead Clarke convinced Miller and Monty to host because Bellamy couldn’t say no to Miller. He wasn’t happy about it but he’d agreed to go, even going so far as to wearing a tie because while he couldn’t understand Clarke’s fascination with it, he clearly enjoyed the result of wearing one.

“I told him he had to come,” Clarke explained to Lincoln who had been surprised to see Bellamy actually show up. Apparently there had been a bet whether or not he’d follow through. “It’s his first time not having to work so I thought there was a chance he’d enjoy celebrating New Year’s when he wasn’t serving people in themed glasses.”

“I’m not celebrating New Year’s,” Bellamy grumbled and Clarke couldn’t help but grin at him.

“He’s rationalizing going out because it’s our anniversary,” Clarke clarified.

“It’s not our anniversary either,” Bellamy complained for what was probably the fiftieth time that day. “Our anniversary is in five hours.”

“There’s some debate,” Clarke explained, linking her arm with her grumpy boyfriend’s. “Our first kiss was at midnight but Bellamy doesn’t count it.”

He looked down at her. He was probably aware she was baiting him but he couldn’t seem to help himself. “I was kissing you so I wouldn’t have to kiss anyone else, that’s not exactly the start of a relationship.”

“It was literally the start to ours.”

Bellamy threw up his free hand and disentangled his other so he could walk away.

“You’re not going to go after him?” Lincoln was clearly amused by their antics as he watched Bellamy go.

“No,” Clarke answered cheerfully. “This is basically foreplay for us.”

Lincoln nearly choked on his beer. “Clarke.”

She ignored his scolding because, honestly, he should be used to it by now. “You know what’s going to piss him off even more? I’m going to propose to him at midnight. It’s going to be great.”

His smile was genuine and when he reached down to hug her Clarke felt settled for the first time all day. “Congratulations, Clarke.”

“He hasn’t said yes, yet,” she reminded him, not wanting to jinx it.

“I can’t think there’s anything in the world which would make him say no. I’m happy, for the both you.”

“Thanks.”

The countdown started so Clarke waved bye to Lincoln as he went in search of his wife. Clarke grabbed her purse and found Bellamy in a corner. “Are you okay to kiss at midnight, or is that too much celebration for you?”

“I supposed it wouldn’t be too awful.”

Clarke laughed. “Good. I want to ask you something first. Before the new year.”

He looked away from the crowd back down to her. “Yeah?”

She pulled the ring out of the small zippered pocket in her purse and held it out between them. “Want to get married next year?”

Bellamy’s grin was dazzling and just like all those years ago, he didn’t wait for one before he kissed her. When he finally pulled away they were both flushed and smiling.

“That’s a yes?” she asked, because she wanted to hear him say the words.

“Hell yes.” He kissed her again, holding her to him until he rested his forehead against hers. “I love you, Clarke.”

“I love you too, Bellamy. Happy New Year.”

He rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. “Yeah, whatever. You too.”


End file.
